Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1887-08-24
Gales aud Sketehes.
UNDER ORDERS.
CONTINUED from Yesterday. J

| of modern artist; every afternoon he
followed his own sweet will, strayed along
the narrow streets, listened to the voluble
sellers and the depreciatorv buyers, at the
shopsland stalls near the Rialto, and tried
his own inexperienced hand at bargain,
or perhaps he took a gondola and was
rowed to the Lido. or some other island
Of the Lagoons, returning at sunset, when
the gold and crimson of the sky was re-
| hected in the water. At table d'hote he
/ related MS adventures to his neighbor, who
/ interrupted him with merry questioning.
and who, sometimes. if she happened in
communicative mood, deigned to respond
with narrations of her own dOings. All
| day David looked forward to the tee a
tete of the dinner hour. Every evening
/ he went to the Piazza and marched up ana
down in solitary state, his eyes continu-
ally travelling in one and the same drec-
ton, or be sought table at the cafe
where he could furtively watch his new
friend, who was pretty sure to be in
sight.
In his letters to Whtechapel he
never mentioned her. For one thing
he did not know her name. Once. in fit
of more than ordinary curiosity, he had
cursorlv glanced through list OF pames
in the VISITORS book, =" ut among them
all how could he distinguish the one in
which he was interested? The ladies
were known by the waiter fraternity of the
hotel as les danes du nunaero .vingt cinQ,
the number of their sitting room.
When speaking to his neighbor David
had often at his tongues tip a downright
question concerning her name, but he had
hitherto been too shy to utter it. He fully
intended to be bolder some day. Mean.
while in his verse-she had found her
way into most of his verses written at this
period-he chose for some fanciful reason
OF his own. to call her ''Hera.''
IL turned out that the length Of the girls
stay in Venice was identical with David's,
and that they were both to leave on the
same day.
Ga the last evening in Venice David and
Hera found themselves walking together,
and actually unaccOmpanled, along the pi-
ANA.
incoming along in this unusual fashion,
The young man had happened to brush
against he LADIES' as both he and they
were bound for the "Angleterre, it was
natural that they should walk together.
But the elder lady of the company was
presently bounced upon by an italian
countess, who insisted on monopolizing
her attentions. Dnvid moved on with
iiera, but he could hear ceaseless stream
of foreign sounding English flowing on
behind him.
A strange silence came over the young
man. Intently-almost breathlessly-be
watched his companion. She had drawn
of one of her gloves; on one of her fin
gers was Il ring, with forget-me-not in
| tul Quoises. David wondered, with a
touch Of utterly unreasonable Jealousy
whose hand had placed it there. The 81
lence seemed oppressive to the girl.
Come, let us hurry to the Riva and see
the moonlight on the water" she said,
"Moonlight on the water is the most cor
rec, of ali Venetian beauties"
Certainly"
David tried to shake off his taciturnity-
the attempt ended in failure; he was OBJ
,iously dull and disagreeable.
Oh, the beauty of the evening-an even
ing never to pass from David's memory
How grand and solemn the Ducal palace
looked in the moonlight! How still the
water, and how sweetly came the sound of
singing voices from the Grand Canal On
the top of the steps of one of the many
bridges on the Riva both walkers came
simultaneously to a standstill.
$50 this is our last evening in Venice"
said the girl, resting her arms on the top
of the bridge, and looking musngly down
into the water.
"Why do you tell me thatp Surely
know it !" burst out David. savagely.
The girl glanced up, startled by the
sharpness of his voice.
whats the matter p"
"Ah, met SIC transit gloria msndi."
81 beg your pardon"
II beg yours | was quoting Latin.
What want to say is that-that-the
prospect of bidding you goodbye, is
WELLS the reverse of an enlivening one
to me-
"How very solemn you are" she said,
with a laugh. "And for no reason at all,
for we shall meet again"
shall we ?'' David leaned his elbow on
the top of the bridge he bent his head
down close to the girls; her hair almost
brushed his cheek.
'Ot COURSE" she said. little impatient
| ly. my friend and l 90 to Florence to-
morrow and, as told you. | am great
friend OF Mrs W;lton's, and | run in to
see her every day"
| But now | am not going to Mrs. Will
tons"
David spoke in a suppressed voice; he
did not raise his head.
| Nv hat do you mean? ?"
"What say. | cannot go to her now.
| had not been dav in Venice before
grew aware of that tact. But | could not
forgive me-resign the pleasure of stay
ing on here with you. Ny expenses at
| Venice must be refunded-somehow" -
with grim smile. You are going to-
morrow; then | leave the same day for
| London"
Good gracious ~ The girl raised her
self from her STOPPING position. How
changeable and incomprehensihle you are!
What has happened since you lett home
TO change your plans so SUDDENLY"
Everything has happened!' Half
mechanically, Hera had moved on few
PAGES, and David walked beside her. They
descended the bridge steps and made their
way slowly along the river.
you know of-you spoke ola matri-
monial scheme for me which was the cause
of Mrs. Wilton's invitation. When | left
home was free it was at least possible